


Beckett, In the Bedroom, With the Little Black Dress

by NeoVenus22



Category: Castle (TV)
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castle and Beckett go undercover, it ends up under the covers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beckett, In the Bedroom, With the Little Black Dress

"For the record, I don't like this at all," said Detective Beckett in a tone that could only be described as 'crisp'. Her glare, on the other hand, could be described at least a hundred ways, half of which would be synonyms of 'irritated'. Rick had spent enough time on the receiving end of that glare to know.

"C'mon," he wheedled, fixing her with his most winning smile. "I'm sure you can pretend to be married to me for a day or so. And already you'd be doing better than either of my ex-wives."

"New rule," she said. "If we have to do this, you don't get to mention ex-wives." Beckett eyed him thoughtfully, and he thought he detected a gleam of wicked mischief. "Or any other women, for that matter."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" he said, more than a little pleased.

"Let's just say I'm a traditionalist." She strode to the hotel's check-in counter. "Hi, we'd like a room for two nights, please."

Never one to let an opportunity go by when it presented itself, Rick went up and firmly planted his arm around Beckett's waist, pulling her into his side. "One bed," he smarmed at the front desk clerk. "We're newlyweds."

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Plum?" said Beckett, looking at him in horror once they were safely in the hotel room.

"Professor and Mrs. Plum, actually," said Rick, plunking himself down on the mattress. He bounced once, or tried to; the mattress was pretty firm. It'd be good for his back. He wondered how good it'd be for other things. Not that Beckett would ever entertain other things.

Beckett sighed. "Is everything a game to you, Castle?"

He bounced again. "Only the things I think I can win."

* * *

"I really hate being undercover," Beckett griped, walking down the boardwalk. Her hand was in his, hanging limply like something dead.

"Maybe it's because you're so bad at it," he said, earning another glare. At least she had that part of marriage down. "We're supposed to be madly in love. You could try to sell it."

"You could try to shut up and let me do some actual detective work, but we don't really foresee that happening any time soon, do we?"

"Shh," he said, gripping her tightly.

"Don't tell me to--" she started, but Rick silenced her with a look.

"That's him, isn't it?" He nodded his head subtly at their target, a Mr. Johnson, standing next to a potted plant by the bar. "That's our guy."

"That's our guy."

"And that's..." _Oh, crap_. The guy Johnson was talking to was a sniveling sleaze from the publishing company, a guy who'd lusted openly after the future ex-Mrs. Castle. Of course that sneaky weasel would be doing some dirty dealings with a guy like Johnson.

In either case, though, that sneaky weasel was someone who would _definitely_ recognize Rick, know he wasn't erstwhile newlywed Professor Perry Plum (he thought Alexis might get a kick out of that), know he was working with the police for his next big novel, and would likely figure out that the lovely Mrs. Plum was not the lovely Mrs. Plum. Rick glanced around furiously for some shadows to slip into, but they were trapped.

_Don't look this way, don't look this way, don't look this way..._

Crap. Paranoid bastard.

"Oh, I hope you've had enough to drink," Rick muttered, more to himself than to Beckett, right before grabbing the sides of her face and pulling her to him in a kiss.

"Wh--" she mumbled against his lips, taken aback, but he didn't really have time for explanation. Rick twisted his arms around before finally securing them around Beckett's waist. Without the pressure of his hands, she was free to move her head back, but his grip was strong enough she wasn't going anywhere.

"What the _hell_, Castle?" She at least had the sense to keep her voice low.

"Johnson's contact knows me. And probably doesn't like me," he added as an afterthought.

"Can't imagine why."

"Just play along."

Surprisingly, she did. The next kiss, the 'we're very much in love and very experienced at this' kiss was pretty convincing. Not the 'in love' part, God no, but the experience... yeah, that was there. Where had Beckett been hiding this woman? Rick stopped checking to see if anyone was looking at them, and started to get into it. Beckett felt good in his hands. Warm. Stunningly soft. Pressed up against him and using her tongue...

Her tongue? That wasn't in the script.

But then, Rick was never one to let an opportunity go by when it presented itself. So when Beckett pressed herself against him, breasts against his chest (a sensation that never got old), he went with it. And when he lowered a hand to her ass, and squeezed (as firm as he'd imagined), and brought her pelvis closer to his, she went with it. Good God, she was hot.

Rick wasn't sure what was what anymore. What was part of 'the plan' and what he was imagining. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure why he should care what was real and what wasn't when he had a woman pressed against his burgeoning erection and not shying away. Still, he fully expected to get slapped when he pulled back his head slightly and said, "Maybe we should take this elsewhere."

Beckett had either made a complete one-eighty concerning her feelings about going undercover, or she was dealing with some latent feelings of unquenchable lust for him she was no longer strong enough to ignore. Or she was drunk. Whatever. But she cocked her head to one side, lips swollen and eyelids a little heavy. She studied him and said, "Okay."

They headed back to the elevator, and Rick found himself thinking about another Johnson entirely.

* * *

Beckett was wearing a halter dress, black and backless, the sort of thing that would make a just-married man not want to leave his hotel room. Rick couldn't help watching her back as she moved, the loose tie around her neck slipping between her shoulder blades, and the way the fabric curved just above her ass, like it was smirking at him and reminded him what he couldn't touch.

Of course, now he could. So he did. Rick grabbed her ass and pulled her towards him before the door had even shut behind them. Time was of the essence, really. She'd get over wanting him and be all about the job again, and he'd be left sleeping in the bathtub of a plush hotel room, nursing an erection. So Rick plunged his tongue into her mouth and let his fingers find bare skin. She was softer than he'd thought she'd be. And then she moaned against his mouth, and he was harder than he'd thought he'd be. He moved his hands up, skimming her spine, deftly untying the straps of her dress and letting them fall before she could stop him. _Fantastic breasts_, Rick thought, but didn't say it, because he figured she'd hate him for it, and there were lots of things she hated him for already, and would hate him for in the future, and he didn't want this, which was actually a compliment, to be on the list. So he complimented her with his hands, thumbs over tightening nipples, the lightest graze over her skin, designed to make her arch and beg for more.

Which she did. Ridiculously hot.

"Castle..."

"Nope. Rick." He kissed one nipple. "Kate." He kissed the other. "Different people tonight, remember?"

It seemed to work for her. She murmured something noncommittal, then, after only a moment's hesitation (which he took advantage of in order to lick her some more, likely sealing the deal), she reached for his belt.

It was something of a blur after that. Rick had an unfortunate weakness for women who knew what they wanted, and once Beckett (Kate) had decided she wanted him, she wasted no time. Belt undone, pants pooled at his ankles, and boxers making their way down his thighs, all before he'd quite managed to relieve Kate of her dress. She took care of this for him, pushing him back a little so she could have room to remove her dress. And the lacy scrap of underwear underneath, a piece of frilly business he never would've expected from her.

"On the bed," she said.

"Can I take my shoes off, first?"

She had this look like Rick really shouldn't be talking, which made perfect sense when he thought about it. He took off his shoes anyway, since his pants were still around his ankles, and he was kind of a pants-or-no-pants guy. When he turned to look, Kate was on the bed, legs spread slightly, waiting with a look of irritated impatience. She kept her shoes on. Rick wasn't normally a guy who really cared about shoes or feet (though he did appreciate a good pair of legs, which she had, and a nice ass, which she had, and nice breasts, which she had, and utter disdain for him, which she _definitely_ had), but damn if the image wasn't sexy. It would've made him hard, if he wasn't already.

"Do this or don't do this," she cautioned him.

"Man can't take a mental picture?"

"You must have one of those old-timey cameras with a tripod and flash bulb, you're taking so long." Kate was sort of whiny when she was horny and impatient. Note to self.

Rick pulled the emergency condom from his pants pocket. "It's funny you should mention a tripod..."

"You wish, Castle." Kate rolled her eyes, then caught herself, then rolled her eyes again. "_Rick_."

"You're catching on. Rick. Like _Casablanca_." He got on the bed, between her ankles, watched her body for the slightest changes. The rise of her chest. The slackening of her jaw.

"I don't like _Casablanca_."

"Everyone likes _Casablanca_."

"Would you just fuck me already?"

"Yes, ma'am." It was probably the first order of Beckett's he actually followed.

* * *

The softest skin on Kate's body was where her thigh met her pelvis. Rick learned this while his hands traced her sides and cupped her breasts, while his tongue explored her thighs and the area between. His lips on her clitoris earned a murmur of approval, his tongue earned a moan. She was wet, and he loved tasting her, and he propped himself up at an awkward angle so his dick didn't touch the bed, because condom or no, he thought the friction might make him come right there.

Rick slid his tongue inside her. Kate gasped a little and her hips bucked upwards, so he pushed two fingers inside so she'd do that again and again. He wondered if this was how she touched herself, late at night in her bed, if she preferred something artificial, or warm fingers stroking in and out of her wetness. He could picture it, Kate pleasuring herself, and the thought made him moan.

Kate gasped. "Do that again."

"Whuh?" he said, mouth full of her.

"Vibrations," was all she managed to choke out.

_Toys_, he concluded, which didn't disappoint him as much as he thought it might. Rick sucked at her clit, hummed around it, until Kate's back arched and she emitted an absolute squeak of pleasure. She came against him, onto him, wetness on his fingers and his dick absolutely aching to be inside her.

"_God_," she groaned, sounded sated and needy all at once. "Fuck me."

"Yeah?"

"Of course, yes." Kate gave him a familiar glare that put him oddly at ease.

"Right," said Rick, then took an ankle in each hand and lifted them to his shoulders. He eased himself into her slowly, trying to savor it, even though every instinct was begging for him to take her hard and fast.

Kate locked her ankles behind his back, lifted her hips to take him just that much deeper, and any rational thought Rick might've had was lost in a wave of lust. He thrust deep, thrust hard, let Kate's moans fill his ears until they rang louder in his head than his own helpless groans. It was such a cliché (and he would know) to say he saw stars when he came, but there they were, sparking in front of his eyes and making his head swim as he went lax on top of her.

Kate, for her part, seemed less willing to let orgasmic haze consume her for a few minutes. The second Rick had removed himself, she sat up. "We should get back to work."

Rick grinned at her. "You never wanna cuddle anymore."

"Not funny. One of us, at the very least, has a job to do, and I didn't spend all that money on a fancy cocktail dress for fancy undercover cocktail parties so I could stay in the hotel room and not wear it."

"I thought that was pretty much the entire purpose of dresses like that," he said.

She moved like she was about to swat him, but seemed to think better of it. He waited for a lecture at worst, a 'this can never happen again' speech at best. What he got was, "Put on pants."

Rick grinned. "Yes, dear."


End file.
